Obsessed
by Tuume
Summary: Most peolple handle an obsessive stalker through police intervention. Carmelita handles hers with a well-placed phone call.


**Obsessed**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sly Cooper or the associated characters therein. They are the property of Sucker Punch Studios. Nor do I own Obsessed. The song belongs to Mariah Carey. I only own Ty. **

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**Just a little something I whipped up while listening to Mariah Carey's new hit: Obsessed. Try listening to that while reading the fic.**

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Carmelita opened her drawers and sighed in frustration.

A pair of her panties were missing.

Again.

Most people would have become frightened and called the police after going through what the vixen had been for the past few weeks. At first it was small stuff; bottles of perfume mailed to her every day, love letters stuffed into her locker in the station, little things that could easily be chalked up to a cute crush from one of her coworkers.

But after a time, it got serious. Perfume bottles turned into wine bottles. The love letters started to become imploringly pathetic or downright threatening. Some were even written in blood. It was at that moment that Carmelita knew that this wasn't some little crush from another cop or somebody else. This was a full blown obsession.

After the first blood letter she dumped everything she had received except for the wine; she was cautious, not crazy. From then on, she kept a tight vigil everyday trying to scope out her new stalker. It would be false to say that she didn't feel the tiniest bit of excitement. After all, how many people can successfully stalk a cop and not get caught?

The vixen winced as she closed the drawers and plopped onto her bed. "I screwed up." Whoever was stalking her was slick; there were no fingerprints on anything he or she sent, no smell on the parcels, and even though Carmelita felt eyes watching her, whenever she turned, there was nobody to greet her.

The taking began soon afterwards. First her mail, then her small bits of jewelry, then her underpants started to go missing. This time was the twelfth occurrence. It had to stop.

The only thing standing in the way, was her pride.

From the beginning she had been an independent person, relying on others as little as possible. Though it showed her strength as an individual, it more often than not lead her into situations that could have been easily avoided. This was one of those situations. The only difference was that regular help wasn't going to cut it.

Swallowing her pride and reservations, Carmelita went to her phone, pulled out the latest letter, and dialed the number written in blood. It picked up on the first ring.

'Hello?' A suave voice. One full of confidence and charm that would make a lady melt. It made her almost gag.

"I'd like to see you."

A deep chuckle on the other end. 'Took you long enough gorgeous. You like taking your sweet time, don't you?'

"I like to gauge my options before making a final decision. So, are we on?"

'You know it. Where would you like to meet?'

Carmelita smirked, keeping it out of her voice so that her 'date' couldn't hear it. " The rooftop of Dimitri's nightclub. That sound good?"

'Excellent. It's a date."

"Bueno. I'll see you at eleven o clock." She hung up and picked up again. There was another call she had to make.

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"You should have called us sooner love," drawled a purple tigress in a thick British accent. She swirled a fine vintage in her glass as she lectured the fox cuddled next to her on the couch in front of the television. "We'd have taken care of that bloke a lot sooner, saved you the trouble."

A deep chuckle emanated from a large black hyena sitting cross legged in front of the couch. His voice was low and dark as he spoke. "You know how Carmelita is, Neyla. That pride of hers wouldn't have allowed her to ask for help until the last minute."

"I know that, Ty, but still, it would have been nice if she had told us sooner. I don't like taking chances, as you both well know."

Carmelita spoke up, "That's exactly why I got you two on this in the first place-"

"No," Neyla used the hand not holding the wine glass to grasp Carmelita's chin and make the vixen face her. "You didn't call us in the first place. You put yourself in danger needlessly and it could have gotten worse." Her tone softened. " I don't like to take chances Carmelita. Especially not with you."

Ty nodded and turned to face them both. "The same applies to me. We may not be the most noble you'll find, but we are your friends. If nothing else, know that you can trust us."

Her eyes pined to Neyla's heart filled with a strange mix of shame and guilt for her mistrust, and the love she had for her friends, Carmelita nodded. Neyla leaned in and kissed her deeply, lovingly, protectively. Ty's lips spread over his teeth in a huge grin, but he said nothing and turned back to the television.

"The report's on," he said. All three leaned in attentively.

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The lioness reporter stood erect and poised as she recounted her words. "Good evening, I'm Helen Pride with the evening news. Just last night, in the pulse pounding nightclub of the Black Château, a new guest dropped onto the scene, literally. I'm here with the owner and lounge lizard, Dimitri Lousteau, who was on the scene at the time." She pressed the microphone into the lizard's face.

He wasted no time in blasting. "Crazy a go-go! I'm dancing to the groove, chilling with some fine honeys, when this crazy cracker-box drops from the sky high! Oh, it was a nasty scene lion lady. It took every ounce of juice in me not to color the dance floor green. I gotta say, whoever tore up that cat is one nasty hombre." He gave a shudder at that, but pressed on. "Regardless, the Black Château will be bumping and grinding tonight! Peace out!" He gave the peace signed and strutted away.

Eye twitching, Helen continued. "While the police are baffled as to who committed this heinous act, there is no doubt that what Dimitri said was true. Here is the body as we speak."

The camera panned left and zoomed in on a grey and red mass being carted out on a slab. The cops around it were either vomiting or struggling not to. It was easy to see why.

What skin was left was open and bleeding from innumerable lacerations, blood pooling and falling off the slab. Several bones protruded from the skin at sharp angles. The face, what was left, was twisted into a macabre expression of agony. The most horrifying aspect of it all was the creatures flesh… Or rather, what was left of the flesh. Large chunks of meat had been torn from the throat and abdomen of the victim, leaving a gaping cavity of crunched bone and carnage.

Helen vomited.

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Back in her apartment, Carmelita, Neyla and Ty drank and laughed.

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This was done on a creative whim. Tell me how you liked it in a review. All criticism is accepted.


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